


Severance

by MarcoFro5



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/F, Post-Apocalypse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcoFro5/pseuds/MarcoFro5
Summary: After her lover's death, Sarah Fletcher struggles moving forward.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Severance

There was enough blood on her that she could wring her hair and fill a cup. If it was even still liquid by this point. Every step taken was a stiff one, cold wind blowing her back and threatening to freeze her solid. Still, she made her way to the cabin.

The door didn’t budge and dread gripped her. Sarah slammed her fist into the door and the sound rang out, tinny and _satisfying_. Each punch that followed came with euphoria, her smile curling from one of her ears to the other. The door bled as she butchered it, crimson splinters and wooden meat flying out with each impact.

“It’s okay,” Bells’ voice whispered as Sarah kept swinging away at the door. 

She could see inside now, frozen blood turning the insides of the cabin into a red wasteland. Her motions were practiced, practically auto pilot. Shoulder down, she charged through the door and walked across the room to the woman in the armchair. Bones and ice crunched under her boots, frosted skeletons strewn about the room.

“I will always love you,” Bells said from the chair.

Sarah laughed and it was manic, each gasp desperate and betrayed by her crying. Bells was covered in blankets, the visible breaths she puffed out growing fainter and fainter. 

“It’s okay,” Bells said again, barely heard over the whipping wind.

Bells dug deeper into the armchair to put as much distance between them as possible. A bare foot peeked out from under the blanket as she pushed and it shattered into pieces so fine Sarah couldn’t make them out. Sarah grabbed at the woman and pulled at the blankets, removing them so that more exposed skin turned to nothing until Bells’ body was filled with holes.

“It’s okay,” she kept saying as Sarah tore away at her body with a grin and tears rolling down her cheeks. “I love you.”

A brittle and bony hand gripped Sarah’s, icy fingers finding their way between hers and squeezing briefly before fading away into nothing at all. 

***

Sarah screamed herself awake, throat raw and back wet. There was an all too familiar panic that followed, mind racing to rationalize what was still fresh in her mind while piecing together where she was. The rubber band on her wrist was a constant sensation, drawn tight against her that it felt like it was cutting off circulation items. Three times, she snapped it. 

The stinging anchored her and the rest of her body followed suit, hands strangling a pillow and feet numb from where her thrashing removed the comforter. Sarah sat up, trying to take a deep breath only for the exhale to come out shuddered. Sweat covered her and soaked her sheets and the poor excuse of a mattress.

Sunlight pierced through the gaps between the cabin’s walls where she hadn’t made sure the logs were close enough together. Sarah stood up from the bed, knees wobbly underneath her. She left the sheets as they were and made her way to the kitchen, stepping over piles of clothes on the floor.

More obstacles got in her way. Chairs she didn’t feel the need to upright had to be walked around, broken glass and ceramic a little harder to avoid and crunching under her feet. She snapped her rubber band, tearing herself away from the memories the sound provoked. The mess was shameful, a painful scar that cut through the cabin. Broken mirrors where she couldn’t bear looking at herself any longer. Shredded blankets that had been so easy to tear apart and so hard to pick up. She’d tried cleaning the cabin the day after she had ruined it, a forced attempt at normalcy that only led to a bigger breakdown and mess. 

Sarah wiped a wet rag through the bowl, scraping away the residue from dinner so she could use it for breakfast. Thankfully, the toaster was in one piece. She’d teased Bells about packing it of all things when the world ended and hadn’t been able to lay a finger on it when things went to hell. The bread went in, the eggs got cracked, she snapped her rubber band, and in a few minutes she had breakfast.

The spoon scraped against the bowl and images tore through her head. An ice skate carving into the front of a man’s skull. A garden trowel scalping a woman until her hairline was reduced to where her mask began on her face. Fingernails flaying away at a man’s shin until they scratched against the bone.

Sarah threw the spoon across the room, hand trembling. She grabbed some of the scrambled egg with her hand and fed it to herself, letting her sense of taste replace the vivid memories. A bite of toast followed, working her jaw into motion. Forcing her to act in the present and keep the past at bay. 

Sarah took her time eating the rest. It was alright. She was putting off a trip to the nearby market for jam or preserves, even though she knew a trip outside the cabin was probably a good idea. A few more bites later and she cleaned her bowl so that she wouldn’t have to do it once lunch rolled around. 

If she was going to the market, she may as well make the most of it, heading back into the bedroom. She’d made the room intentionally small, both to cut back on the wood needed and to give it a cozier look compared to the rest of the cabin. It felt more like a coffin now as she got dressed in the tight space between her dresser and the bed. A coffin for other reasons than the size. 

Bells hadn’t passed in this room but she was still felt in every room in the cabin. At times the feelings she brought were good, like using the toaster or seeing the heart carved into the bed’s headboard. Other times, those same things nearly brought Sarah to her knees.

She wrangled herself into an old t-shirt and jeans and took care of the fuzziness on her teeth before heading outside. 

The sun taunted her, rays passing through tree branches and down onto her skin. They had been close to surviving the winter, only a few weeks between Bells’ death and now. Birds sang as if things had never changed. Maybe it was because the animals were native to this Earth and they weren’t. The world had ended a year ago and instead of ending with it, the remnants of Bet persevered. Sarah wondered if that endurance was done out of spite, a middle finger just to prove they could survive.

Sarah stretched, fingers touching toes. Surviving was better than the alternative, regardless of what motivated them to do so. She grabbed the axe resting against the cabin, fingers twitching before she convinced them to lift it up, and got to work.

***

The axe came down, splitting the wood in half. It was a clean break and Sarah knocked the firewood into the pile with the axehead. Trying to sell lumber this time of year was difficult, but it kept her busy and kept her fed.

An engine roared, growing louder as a vehicle tore its way down the dirt road to her cabin. She grabbed another log and placed it in the center of the stump. As light as a feather, she lifted the axe up and over her head. She swung, easing her grip midway so gravity did most of the work. The wood split cleanly and fell off on its own, axe wedging itself into the stump from the force. Sarah left it, wiping the sweat from her forehead. 

The Jeep came into view, snaking between the tall trees of the forest before stopping beside her truck. Sarah folded her arms as the two guys climbed out. It had just been a brutal winter, yet they both had bulk to them. 

“Buying or selling,” she called out.

“Selling, I suppose,” the driver said. His blonde hair was long and loose, hanging down to his shoulders. “We’re sorry for your loss.”

It caught her off guard until she noticed he was looking at the monument of rocks and fabric she’d made in the yard for Bells. The ground had been too cold to dig up, even with her strength. Sarah had to use the rocks at the fire’s base as a gravestone after the wind blew away her ashes throughout an Earth she barely knew. Blue thread from the shirt she last wore was woven through the rocks and tied in knots. The intent was a flowing river but Sarah couldn’t help but see veins.

“Lots of death around us these days,” he continued. “It’s terrible. Last two houses we visited had no one home.”

She didn’t have neighbors. They’d made sure to pick somewhere far away from others before building, just in case old faces came looking. These two were unfamiliar but were apparently covering a lot of ground.

“I’m not interested,” she said.

“Ever heard of Shroud?” he continued.

“No,” she lied.

“Good,” he said. “They’ve been causing trouble for new settlers. Nasty stuff. Burning farms, killing for kicks.”

“I get it.”

“Troublesome folks, is what I’m saying. We took care of them. Most of them, at least, that’s why we’re here. I’m Solstice and this is Big Shot.”

He had to reach up to put his hand on his buddy’s shoulder. Big indeed, arms as thick as his thighs. He hadn’t so much as moved since they got out of the vehicle.

“Okay,” she said.

“We’re part of a group called Men at Work,” he said. “All inclusive, I didn’t choose the name.”

“Capes,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, are you not a fan?”

“No.”

He laughed and the sound unnerved her. She snapped her rubber band.

“I don’t blame you,” he said, grinning. “Capes can be dangerous. We accept all kinds of help by the way. Construction, legwork, lots of options if needing some extra cash.”

“Not interested.”

“You sure? It’s awfully lonely out here,” he said, pacing towards the memorial until he squatted down in front of it. “I think we should all be building towards something. A better tomorrow rather than a rough yesterday.”

“Not. Interested.”

“Fair enough,” he said, hopping back up and pacing towards the cabin.

“It’s a nice place, you make it yourself?”

“Not your concern,” she said, reaching for her axe. Her grip felt _wrong_ , fingers itching against the wooden handle. “It’s about time you two getting going.”

“We’re selling more than employment,” he continued, ignoring her. “For a monthly fee we can protect this place from villains like Shroud or whatever else goes bump in the night.”

“Don’t need it.”

“You might.”

“I won’t.”

Sarah lifted the axe so that the head rested on her shoulder. The big guy still didn’t move and the talker kept pacing around the cabin. 

“Times are changing, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“Didn’t.”

His grin widened.

“My mistake,” he said. “Times are changing. Shroud may not be bothering you, but the Crowleys, Deadset, Barrow, and all them are expanding and making plays that may not seem like your concern until they start knocking on your door.”

How long would it take for her to close the distance between her and him? Would the guy as thick as a redwood be able to beat her there? They were about the same height and she could probably handle the big guy if he didn’t have too many tricks up his sleeve.

“Let them come,” she said.

There was silence for a bit. The only fight she’d been in in the past six months was with a boar and even that wasn’t a great showing on her part, scar on her thigh as proof. Meat was rare and a good meal was rarer. Meanwhile they looked fresh and ready to roll. Her hands itched for a fight though and she wasn’t about to give an inch.

“Fine,” he said, a smile still plastered on his face. “It really is a nice place.”

They crawled back into their Jeep, the big guy’s eyes glued to mine and expression stern. She was honestly more concerned about Solstice. Talkers didn’t last long in the cape world. He either hadn’t been around long or was a special kind of fucker if he survived the end of the world and the bloody months that followed. Second chances gave people hair on their chest and a feeling of invincibility. 

They drove off, wheels kicking up dirt as they took the trail back up to the main road.

_Count to ten._

They were Bells’ words in her head, not her own. Her frustration simmered down from that memory alone. She tried her best to picture Bells’ face inches away from her own, hands on her cheeks and counting alongside her when the anger got to be too much. When life got to be too much and it felt like she was on a needlepoint, the past threatening to swallow her up. She counted aloud, soft whispers under her breath until the irritation subsided. 

Sarah put another log on the stump and swung, muscles in her arms screaming out as she split the log in half. It splintered from the impact, slithers and shards going every which way from her hitting it wrong. The axe fell from her hands and her fingers shook, a fire burning at the ends as if her fingernails were being torn out. 

***

Dinner went as smoothly as breakfast had, venison eaten with her hands because she couldn’t find the spoon she tossed. The market had a fresh supply of the meat at least, along with blackberry jam and some other food to get her through the month. Every day was a battle, she thought, trying to fall asleep in bed and failing. 

Sleep had always been hard to come by. She’d gone without it for a whole week once and didn’t lose any energy or even get the pleasure of crashing when she could afford to do so. Even though so much changed for her when the world ended, the restlessness never really left. It gnawed at her hands and feet, begging her to get up and act. To do anything, but be still.

It wasn’t as if sleep was anything restful for her anyway. The nightmares were a constant for the last ten years. Her memories were fuzzy enough that she had a hard time distinguishing what was the truth and what was imagination. Or maybe all of it was real and she was just coping by convincing herself some of it wasn’t. 

No, last night’s had Bells’ voice even though she had already passed before Sarah got home that night. Just a scrawled love note written in her lap in the armchair. The fire had gone out and she hadn’t been able to start it back up while Sarah was out collecting wood.

Sarah rolled over in the bed to Bells’ side, sheets cleaner and smoother than hers. It took a few tries but she opened the nightstand that contained Bells’ sketchbooks. Most were from before they met, landscapes of mountainsides and waterfalls taking up entire pages. It was just a hobby according to Bells, but Sarah was always awestruck looking at them. She flipped through them until rest finally came.

***

A sound worse than screaming woke her up. Fire roared around her, wood burning and flames already licking at her bed. Smoke filled her lungs and her coughs had a hard time hacking it up. Her body kicked into action without a conscious thought on what it should do. She hated her instincts taking over, even with an inferno surrounding her. Sarah forced thoughts to flow. Exits. 

The bedroom door was open but only more flames awaited her in the kitchen. She was still holding the sketchbook and couldn’t bear letting go of it. There wasn’t a way to salvage this, she realized, freezing despite her body urging her to move. The bed was on fire now and she could do nothing to stop it. Sarah couldn’t rebuild it all and anything that replaced it would just be hollow. The fear seized her, locking her body up, sweat and tears making her face wet.

She wiped it all away. Exits. She rushed over to where the sun peeked in between logs each morning. Fire filled that space now. She covered her mouth with the crook of her elbow, the smoke giving her more trouble than anything else. Giving herself a running start, she threw her body into the gap.

No use. Maybe this was just how it was supposed to go? Bells frozen and her burnt alive. There were worse ways to go. Again, she rammed her body into the wall and again she limped away from it. 

Fire found purchase on the sketchpad and she swatted it away. Fuck that. Fuck giving up. Fuck the demons chasing her and the demons that waited for her. Sarah screamed and rushed forward, shoulder down and held hung high. She burst through the gap, wood crumbling and her momentum carrying her out of the cabin and into the night. The cabin crumbled behind her, roof collapsing into what remained of her bedroom. 

There were headlights in the distance and squealing wheels. Leaving, much to her anger. Rage filled her, hands aching more than her shoulder.

“Come on!” she shouted to them, even though the noise of the engine was too faint to make out. “Fucking come on!”

Bells memorial burned, the thread on fire between the rocks. Her rubber band wasn’t there, either burned off of her or broken along the way. She pinched the taut skin on her wrist instead, nails digging in until blood was drawn.

Sarah limped over to Bells’ grave and nudged the rocks over with her footing, letting them put out some of the fire. She plucked the thread out, getting the longest piece that hadn’t been completely burned up. The rest of the cabin fell to pieces as Sarah tied it around her wrist until it nearly cut off circulation. 

There was nothing left for her to lose. Solstice had talked about rebuilding, working towards the future. He wouldn’t get one. She watched the rest of the fire burn, thankful it didn’t reach the treeline. She wouldn’t get one either and she was fine with that at this point. There was nothing left worth holding onto.

Her fingers still shook and fear gripped her. She was tired. Tired of running and fighting and living a lie that she had no reason to keep up anymore. Sarah had done her best and that was good enough. She made her way past the wood pile and axe to where the cabin once stood. Where she had cut trees and built a home for herself and her lover.

Shaky hands dug through ashes and debris, passing over cooking utensils and sweeping broken furniture aside until they reached the floorboards. She knew where it was. Even buried underneath the future she tried to build for herself, its presence was like a second heartbeat. Her past that wouldn’t leave, its steady thrum a reminder every time she picked something up or walked over it in the kitchen. 

With steady hands she squeezed her fingers under the floorboards and peeled them back, revealing a long metal case. She’d used it to kill the Shroud goons that gave them a hard time in the refugee camp after they found out who they were and where they came from. The clasp opened with ease and she ran her fingers over the weapon.

Her body was still hot from the fire and the aluminum was cool against her skin. No dents despite the countless impacts and swings. The only blemish could barely be called one: a name etched into the head in cursive.

_CASEY_

She picked the bat up and it felt _right_ in the worst way. She left the case behind, there was no need for it anymore. No need to keep the past locked up any longer. Casey left Sarah behind in those ashes, to spend forever with Bells. She stopped at the gravestone and knelt down to leave the sketchbook by the tumbled rocks, blue thread hanging from her wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “Not for everything I’ve done, but for what I’m about to do.”


End file.
